


Fire

by Titania_Fleuret



Category: B.A.P, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Gang World, Assassin Yoongi, Blood and Violence, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tester, mob boss jungkook, mob princess Jimin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-06-07 19:56:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6821842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Titania_Fleuret/pseuds/Titania_Fleuret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s no place for mercy in this world. Kill, or be killed. Hunt, or be hunted. Let live, and you die. </p><p>Min Yoongi made a mistake, once.</p><p>It won't happen again.<br/>...</p><p>(They call him the ghost. They whisper his name in the darkest corners, in tones of equal fear and reverence. He never misses. Once Min Yoongi, the contract killer of BTS gets his eye on you, there’s no escape.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fire

_They wanted him to make it quick._

 

“Neatly. Just dispose of the body. Or we could send some men to do it for you, if you’d like.”

 

Yoongi had shook his head, had declined the offer. He preferred to go solo. As he has always been, in all the days he remembers.

 

The order had been simple enough. There would be a man- a bad man, Yoongi would have liked to think- but seeing that he had been so pleasantly invited to dispose of this figure, knew better than to see him as a good person. No, a _target_ was stupid enough to steal thousands of bank notes from a family’s vault, and now they’re hunting him down. _Good riddance_.

 

As per usual, Yoongi was called to do the dirty work.

 

 _The ghost,_ they call him; they whisper his name in the darkest corners, tones equally fearful and reverent. _He never misses. Once Min Yoongi gets his eye on you, there’s no escape. You might as well give up and pray for a quick death._ He’s a phantom of pain, black clad and silencer tucked away in a hidden holster underneath a tattered leather jacket. It doesn’t help that he’s expressionless. Yoongi has witnessed too many killings to feel anything, anymore.

 

He stares at the target with blank eyes, now, looking as the man cowers at the corner of the warehouse, scrabbling around his dirty messenger bag to throw some money at Yoongi’s feet. “There…. There! Take it!” _Pathetic,_ Yoongi thinks. _Absolutely pathetic._ He moves forwards.

 

“Stop!” screams the man, kicking wildly at Yoongi’s shins as he is forcibly pried off the ground and slammed across the room. “Have you no mercy?”

 

Mercy is a strange word. The targets cry for Yoongi’s _mercy_ sometimes, grovelling at his feet with bloodstained hands. Not that it makes a difference.

 

_There’s no place for mercy in this world. Kill, or be killed. Hunt, or be hunted. Let live, and you die._

 

Yoongi raises his gun. He doesn’t say a word. Almost as if realising that all pleading would come to nothing, the man’s demeanour darkens. _Like a cornered animal._ Again, nothing that Yoongi hasn’t encountered before. They would snarl, bare their fangs at him. But they’ll never dodge the bullet straight into their chest. Lodged right into a bleeding heart. And the blood would spill, raining crimson in the ground, and Yoongi would turn away, the muzzle of his Glock 17 smoking as he heads off with blood money stuffed deep inside his pockets.

 

Yoongi saunters forwards, gun poised and trigger pulled back.

 

The man stumbles further back and pulls _something_ from underneath a stained blanket, tucked away in the corner of the warehouse. Yoongi’s breath hitches in his throat.

 

 _A boy._ Or is he? His frame is delicate and slightly feminine, and his lips are full, eyes dark and wide as they plead at Yoongi silently, the expression shifting to pain as Yoongi’s target yanks him violently by the hair, grinning savagely at the assassin. Yoongi watches as the man grips the boy’s throat with his free hand, listens as the boy begins to choke.

 

Everything about him screams _innocent._ Such a pretty thing doesn’t belong here in the streets, Yoongi remarks. His fingers tighten on the trigger, but he doesn’t pull it. Not yet.

 

Yoongi’s no hero, but the contract didn’t include anything about the boy, currently struggling underneath the iron fist at his throat. The man seems to notice his hesitation, and spits mockingly at the assassin.

  
“Not so brave anymore, huh,” he taunts. “Can’t let your little princess’ body get wasted away with maggots can you? Now, if you would just put down the gun- “

 

It’s the last thing he says before he drops to the ground, eyes glassy and blood trickling sickly beside his mouth. Yoongi isn’t called the ghost for nothing.  Three steps to the right, a sharp lunge and it's over. The target has been disposed. He didn't even see it coming for him. Another day’s bills paid, some charity work at the side. Yoongi sighs. He’s tired.

 

A soft gasp emerges from underneath the freshly disposed corpse, and Yoongi narrows his eyes as the boy struggles to push away the dead body. He seems oddly calm about the ordeal he has just been through, though the trembling of his voice suggests otherwise as he turns and trains his eyes directly on the assassin.

 

“Do it,” the strange boy whispers.

 

“Do what?” Yoongi replies, equally distracted by the slight pout of the boy’s lips as they jut out in a manner that is equally defiant and pitiful as he is confused.

 

“Kill me. Isn’t that what you were sent here for?” the boy rasps, drawing his knees together and curling into a ball.

 

Yoongi shakes his head. “Contract’s only meant for that guy, and he’s dead. You’re free to go now, kid.”

 

The boy remains seated on the ground, eyes dull and deadcast on the ground. He doesn’t speak.

 

“Or… do you have nowhere to go?” Yoongi asks, and instantly regrets it as the boy looks up and grow wide.

 

Yoongi isn’t used to pity, but there’s something about the miniscule frame of the boy… dark hair ruffled and even darker eyes cast, pleading, onto his face. It makes him seem even smaller, more vulnerable. Yoongi feels the oddest feeling of wanting to engulf the boy in a crushing embrace, and imagines the feeling of soft hair tickling his chin. He pushes the thought away. The tank top the boy has on is ripped, and Yoongi sees bruises lined across his scarred shoulders. He wonders just what the boy has been through. The boy seems to notice his stare and pulls himself even closer together, shivering in the cold.

 

There’s a long pause.

 

“I… I can’t,” the boy whispers, and his expression is embarrassed, almost as if it was something to be shameful about.

 

Another pause, and the boy looks up in surprise as he is covered in a warm, leather jacket, smelling faintly of cigarettes and ash. Yoongi kneels down and motions to his back. “Get on.”

 

“What..?” The boy gasps. “You’re staying at mine for the night. For tonight only. Tomorrow you’ll go.” The assassin responds calmly. “Now get on.”

 

When the boy continues gaping stupidly at Yoongi, the assassin gives a growl of annoyance before lifting the boy and heaving him over his shoulders. “There. Now hang tight.”

 

The corpse is incinerated by a stray match tossed casually over the assasin’s shoulder as he makes his way out of the warehouse, precious cargo perched precariously on his back.

 

He’s about to call his supplier about the disposal when a soft whisper makes its way into his ear.

 

“I’m Jimin,” the boy whispers, and his breath is warm as it ghosts against Yoongi’s ear. “Park Jimin.”

 

“Min Yoongi,” he offers offhandedly.

 

Min Yoongi is a ghost of society, but there’s a small flutter in chest as he feels soft hair tricking at the back of his neck, and small shudders rack their way across Jimin’s body as he sobs into the assassin's shoulder. He guesses that not all of his emotions are numb, just yet.

 

 _“It’s okay. Everything’s going to be fine.”_ Yoongi wants to say, wants to wrap his palms around the mop of dark hair and kiss his forehead.

 

But he keeps his eyes trained on the road as he hitches Jimin’s legs higher up his waist. Min Yoongi’s a man of no mercy. He’s a killer. And tomorrow, Park Jimin would be a stranger he escorts out of his home. Nothing more than a distant memory.

 

_After all, there’s no place for mercy in this world. Kill, or be killed. Hunt, or be hunted. Let live, and you die._

 

Min Yoongi has made a mistake once.

 

He would never do it again.

 

\---

  
Which is why it comes as a complete surprise when he wakes to the cold muzzle of a pistol, pressed taut against his temple.

 

"Rise and shine, motherfucker." someone purrs.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a non proof-read chapter to test the waters before I continue to write this long ass fic (which is probably going to be 20+ chapters by the end it's a monster)
> 
> Let me know how it is. (you can say it's shitty it's ok)
> 
> Also I'd really really really appreciate it if a kind person offers to be a beta reader <3


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